Been So Long
by lezlarr
Summary: Vegeta must learn to deal with things that are beyond his control. Not a one-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball/Z/GT.**

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**Been So Long**

It was something he'd grown accustomed to very early in his life, his silence, though perhaps it bothered him now simply because it had been a while since last they spoke. Maybe.

Or maybe it was that he wouldn't meet his gaze. He wouldn't look at anything. He sat stone still, was he even breathing?

Trunks sat heavily beside him. "Hey, Dad."

The elder nodded, grunted softly, but still didn't look away. Turning slightly, he could see his wife in the distance, giving him a strange look. He motioned for her to go on and turned back to his company.

For the first time, he noticed how many gray hairs his father had accumulated over the years. His face barely looked a day over forty, but the collection of grays starting at his temples and widow's peak that stretched upwards proved otherwise; and that was saying nothing of the heavy creases on his face from his permanent scowl and furrowed brows. Still, Trunks envied his father's youthfulness and hoped – as Bulla did – that it was something they had inherited from him.

And yet, he said nothing.

"Did Bulla talk to you?" A nod. "So you heard?" A nod.

Bulla was pregnant, and well into her first trimester, it seemed. There had been a slight bulge visible earlier, and Trunks felt a hum of joy that made him feel guilty. Bulla had shared the sentiment, grinning when no one was looking and whispering the news to her mother excitedly. The siblings had shared concern on how their father would take the news, as the first time Trunks had approached him with the term 'grandfather,' it hadn't gone over well.

_You're barely more than a child yourself, what the hell do you think you're doing with an infant at your age?_

But he kept his stony mask with barely a flicker of emotion.

And still, he said nothing.

Trunks swallowed thickly. There was an impossible task set before him, and he had no idea how to tackle this challenge. He wished someone would tell him what to do, how to do it. He wished Goten would be of some help in this situation. Blue eyes stared at his father. _Was _he breathing?

Picking at the cuff of his jacket, he tentatively asked, "We – you know, the gang and us kids – were gonna go to dinner. Talk about old times, swap stories, stuff like that. They were wondering if you wanted to come."

No, Goku had approached him, said he needed to talk to his father, he was worried, but his father didn't really need to know that. He was pretty sure he knew what the answer would be, because Vegeta was shaking his head and mouthing words that wouldn't seem to come out.

"Dad? Are you alright?"

For the first time in what might have been days, Vegeta met his son's eyes; that dark gaze that had once pierced him, terrified him into submission, glistened in the stark daylight. "No, boy," he whispered, voice hoarse. "I'm not." He turned back to what he'd been staring at and took a deep, quivering breath. "I don't know what to do."

Trunks touched his father's shoulder; he stiffened at the contact.

_Oh, Kami, I don't know what to do, Mom, what do I do?_

"Go," Vegeta croaked after a while. "Be with your family. I'll be fine."

"But-"

"I can hear your son asking where you are," he cut off. "Go. I want to be left alone."

Sighing, Trunks stood, dusted off his slacks, and walked forward to touch the cold stone.

**BULMA BRIEFS**

**Who was loved by all.**

**Age 733 – Age 803**

At the base of the headstone was a series of strange symbols that Trunks hadn't seen before, that he didn't recognize. They weren't chiseled like the rest of the letters; it looked carved. Startled and confused, he looked back at his father, who was staring at the markings so intensely he worried they would combust.

"I never said it," Vegeta whispered, answering an unasked question. "But she did. Every damn day. Every chance she got, just so that I understood. And I did. I do.

"And she _was_ loved. More than she knew."

In the shadow of his wife's monument and under the gaze of his son, Vegeta wondered when he would follow her to Otherworld.

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**A/N: This is not a one-shot. Please review. I'd really appreciate it, especially from all you guests.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Oh man, thank you for the reviews. This is supposed to be really emotional, so don't be ashamed if you cried. To be honest, I cried when I wrote it, because I kept thinking... Well, basically what you're about to read. I've mentioned before, I write Vegeta fics because I can get into his head. Well, sometimes, he gets into mine.**

**Enjoy.**

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It's not something you really ask yourself, not necessarily something you think of save for late at night, in the silence of your worst-case-scenario thoughts. Nonetheless, it's a question to be avoided for the sake of one's sanity.

_What would I do?_

It had, of course, crossed his mind before. Briefly, albeit, and only amid the tornado of thoughts racing through his head, but it had occurred to him. It was the first time anyone or thing other than himself had been important enough to worry about, and his mind was so frazzled with the demands of his Pride, his Conscience, his Rival, and his Master warring for dominance. The thoughts had been so lost that they'd only become clear when he woke to the matching blue eyes of his boys – yes, _his_ boys, he was _Uncle Vegeta_ after all – begging him to get up. Paternal instinct had won over, and though she hadn't been an after-thought, he realized eventually that she kind of had been. He had pushed her to the back of his mind and only noticed too late.

_Everyone's dead! Even Bulma and Trunks!_

It had been a dog's death, but she was dead too and nothing was final. They could, no _would_ defeat Buu and wish everyone back. If he stayed dead, so be it, at least his family was alive. There wasn't a time or an opportunity for the dreaded question to really be a reality. His death had come first and ended the need for it. But at least he got her back.

But now, years later, as old age settled in like dust on his bones, the question reared its ugly head and changed its name a bit, from Possible to Inevitable.

_What will I do?_

He'd pondered it for years after the Buu fiasco, especially as the lines and tiredness crept over his blue beauty. Though ever untamable, she still grew weary, slow, before his eyes, which somehow kept their youth. He recalled once asking Nappa, as a child, when death had fascinated him to a morbid degree,

How do Saiyans die?

In battle, if they're lucky. Executed if they are traitors.

But what about outside of battle?

No one lives long enough to die outside of battle.

What about you? Aren't you old?

Not yet.

There had once been a legend about his great grandfather, the first or second Vegeta, he wasn't really sure since they all started to get mixed up in his head, had lived to see death in his sleep. He'd been ancient, perhaps a hundred Earth years (Vegeta had grown bored and done the math one sleepless night), before age had set on. It had been quick, sudden, startling, and believed to be painful. He had kept his strength up until his dying day, but using energy exhausted him quickly. It was said that he'd died within three cycles (five years) of elderly symptoms setting in.

_How will I?_

Vegeta wasn't old yet. He was seventy-three. If the legends were true and his math was correct, he could potentially live for another thirty years. Long enough, perhaps, to see his son grow old and die, his daughter, too.

He wouldn't go back to Capsule Corp. Not after… Not after this. The compound belonged to Trunks now; he would take over the company.

He could take his training capsule; it had served him well over the years.

He could go to space. Conquer planets, wipe out whatever remnants there were of the Cold Army, stragglers though they would be. Sweet vengeance. He would be a legend by now, Prince Vegeta, killed by Frieza but revived somehow to wreak havoc upon planets he visited; Prince Vegeta, who left no survivors; Prince Vegeta, the last of his race; Prince Vegeta, the washed up soldier whose bloodlust had been tamed out of him.

All hail.

_What am I going to do?_

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**Review please, and look out for chapter three.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**** Thank you everyone that reviewed, it means a lot to me. On to part three.**

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He leaned back in his chair, exhaling contentedly from a belly full of good food. There was a soft chuckle to his right and then a scraping of wood on wood. Without opening his eyes, one long arm reached out and wrapped around a thin waist, effectively pulling the body onto his lap with a surprised 'oof.' Smiling, the body squirmed, and his other arm linked with its partner to keep them in place.

"Goku," Chichi whined, pushing against his arms. His grin crept further across his face. "Let me up, I need to do the dishes."

"Do them _later_," he persisted, leaning forward to nuzzle his face in her falling-apart bun. Her dark hair had thinned over the years, but it was as soft as ever. "I'll even help."

She snorted and kept trying to push him off, but that was an iron-clad grip on the best of days. And she wasn't fighting it, not really; even going into their seventies, Goku's childish antics persisted, made her feel like a young woman despite her aging bones and creaking joints. In any case, he was right, the dishes could be put off for later. Thankfully, mercifully, the Saiyan's appetite had calmed with age and, even though he still ate enough to feed a family of four, dishes were no longer a chore that would take the rest of the night to complete.

He was nosing her cheek, planting a soft kiss, when an explosion nearby rocked the house. Chichi would've hit the floor if Goku's grip hadn't turned protective and clasped her gently to him. She looked up, and all the playfulness was gone from his face. He looked confused and irritated, accentuating the lines around his eyes.

"Goku, what is it?" she asked in a small voice. He shook his head.

"I dunno, but," his frown turned into a scowl. "What the heck? I'll be right back, stay in the house."

With that, he dashed out the door and slammed it behind him. The dark grew heavy not far from the house, but that didn't impede his progress. Another explosion shook the ground, illuminating the surrounding woods and hills with blinding blue light. He picked up his pace. A hundred or so meters off, a figure was briefly seen before disappearing into the black again, but not before Goku got a good look at the silhouette. He clenched his jaw, and then a blast rocketed toward him; he rolled, got back on his feet, ran a little faster.

"Vegeta!" he shouted. "What do you think you're doing?"

The only response he received was another blast flying at his head, this one stronger than before. A warning. A challenge. Goku deflected it with his hand into the woods, hoping nothing was killed in the explosion. Three more followed, from three different directions. In the brief and inconsistent light, Goku saw the enraged and determined expression on his friend's face. The hell was going on?

"Vegeta, stop! You could hurt someone!"

He scoffed, the first vocal response Goku had gotten thus far. "If that's what it takes, then so be it."

"If that's what _what_ takes?" Two more blasts, ever growing in power, dodged. "You're not making any sense."

Suddenly, the prince was before him, inches away; for a moment, Goku was back in the desert wasteland where they first fought, facing down a violent and unstoppable opponent whose strength was beyond measure. Vegeta's dark eyes glinted with a violence he hadn't seen since those days, absent even during the Tankaichi Bodokai. Murderous, Vegeta was gripping Goku's shirt, pulling him close, baring his teeth.

"Fight me," he growled. "Give it everything you've got."

Goku tried to back away, but his friend – he thought – held strong. "If you wanted a spar, you could have just-"

A massive fist slammed into his mouth, and his head was knocked aside. Spots danced in his vision and blood coated his tongue. "No!" Vegeta screamed, "Fight me! _Fight me!_" and tossed him to the ground.

No, he was still far stronger, and with his mind as rampant as it was, Vegeta would be crushed. He shook his head; his companion growled and launched an assault, pounding his face and chest with gloved hands. Goku's skull slammed repeatedly into the ground; he thought he heard voices in the background, but it was hard to think clearly in this state. Finally growing tired of the beating, he made the effort to catch Vegeta's fists.

"I don't know what's gotten into you, but you need to calm down," Goku tried to reason through bleeding lips. His mouth hurt, but he still hoped words would solve the problem.

"If you won't do it, maybe _Gohan_ will." He was smirking down at him, that old smirk, crazed and volatile and absolutely scary. Goku clenched his sore jaw. "Or maybe all it takes is paying your harpy a visit."

Goku's eyes widened. "Y-You wouldn't." But he knew he would. "Vegeta, we're, we're _friends_."

The smirk collapsed into that determined scowl, his upper lip curled up slightly in disgust. Without a second's hesitation, Vegeta's ki exploded around him and he blasted up into the sky, flying in the direction of Goku's house. He didn't have time to wonder anymore; whatever had caused it, Vegeta had snapped and now Chichi was in danger. Goku followed, surpassed, and knocked the warrior backwards with a good kick to the chest. The prince stopped himself, stared in mild surprise for a moment, and then grinned.

"There we go," Goku heard him whisper before Vegeta was flying at him, fist pulled back.

Reluctantly, he matched his friend blow-for-blow, just as he had for years during their sparring. It had never been like this, though; no matter how frustrated he got, Vegeta had not intentionally _tried_ to hurt him. He hadn't gone for cheap blows, hadn't aimed for pressure points, hadn't aimed for that tender place where his tail had been severed. He was leaving himself open for blasts, moving slower than Goku knew he could go; it didn't make any sense. What the hell was he even doing?

In an attempt to stall, Goku gripped the elder's wrist and flung him into the ground, where he crashed into a bloody pile of himself, coughing as the dust settled.

"Vegeta, why are you doing this?" he called desperately.

"Why won't you fight me?" the prince screamed back, obviously enraged. Goku unknowingly inched back. Vegeta's ki exploded gold, and the Super Saiyan continued to scream from the ground. "Threatening your wife or your son hasn't worked. Perhaps I'll go level a city. Maybe _then_ you'll take me seriously."

"_What?_" Goku cried as Vegeta shot off from the ground, heading instinctively South to the nearest city.

He wasn't lying.

He wasn't bluffing.

Goku jumped to Super Saiyan and flew after his friend as quickly as he could, understanding chilling his entire body to the bone. Now he knew.

"Vegeta!" he shouted against the unforgiving wind. "Stop this, you don't know what you're doing!"

"The hell I don't!" Vegeta screamed back, not slowing.

Goku stopped, desperate for an answer. His eyes darted back and forth, hoping the trees below would offer him _some_ answer, some way of calling back the rogue prince. Below. _Below._

"_If you do this now, you'll never see her again!_"

He slammed to a halt.

There was a long minute where Goku wasn't sure if it had worked. Maybe Vegeta was so desperate to die that he would risk returning to Hell. Maybe.

The golden glow snapped off like a light and the prince drifted slowly to the ground, his head dipped low. Goku eased into his base form as he flew towards him; by the time his feet touched the earthy forest floor, Vegeta was sitting against a tree, head in his hands.

"Vegeta?" he asked tentatively, not sure if the episode had fully subsided.

"That stupid woman," Vegeta grumbled, obviously not listening. "I told her. I _told_ her."

Goku knelt in front of him, placing a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. He really didn't know what to say.

"The shit she does in that lab, I swear. And she gets on _my_ ass for training too hard. At least I'm in control of my injuries. At least I always know what I'm doing.

"I told her to be careful. She'd been having problems, sliced her hand open the week before. I warned her that she was getting more clumsy. I said, 'don't be stupid, be prepared.'"

He was crying; Goku hadn't seen him cry since he died on Namek. It was the second time Vegeta was dumping the weight of his heart on him, and again, all he could do was listen. The only difference was Vegeta hadn't _wanted_ to die on Namek.

Ebony eyes looked up, suddenly and inexplicably showing the entire weight of Vegeta's seventy-some-odd years of life.

"The hell kind of man am I, Kakarot, if I couldn't even save my wife from a damn _lab explosion_?"

Goku patted his shoulder in an attempt at consoling him. "I'm sorry, I know it's gotta be hard-"

"Shut up, Kakarot," Vegeta snapped half-heartedly. "No, you don't. You're not painfully aware that you have another possible three decades of life ahead of you… Alone."

Three decades. Thirty years. Goku thought about that for a while and wondered how Vegeta knew that, but decided not to press. He considered it and quietly agreed that another thirty years without his Chichi would be pretty miserable, but he still had his friends. He still had his kids.

Smiling, he offered, "Hey now, you won't be alone. You've got Bulla and Trunks and a whole buncha grandkids to think of. Doesn't Bulla have one on the way?" Vegeta nodded slowly. "See? Spend those thirty years being a grandpa. Then, when you _do_ go to Otherworld, you can tell Bulma all about the little ones. I'm sure she'd be real happy to hear about them."

He remained still, then sighed heavily and wiped his face with his hands roughly. Even though the storm seemed to be over, Goku was still on guard, wary of Vegeta's volatile and unpredictable nature. When Vegeta got to his feet, he followed suit, finally dropping his hand to his side.

"You okay now?" He nodded. "No more pillaging, right?"

Vegeta gave a dry, throaty chuckle. "No more pillaging." He seemed to try an apologetic smile but only managed a tired grimace. "Good night, Kakarot."

"Good night, Vegeta."

He flew away slowly, idly, as if he wasn't in a hurry. Goku supposed he wasn't. Thirty years was a long time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Lost**

The phone was ringing; Chichi rushed inside, laundry basket still tucked under her arm, and answered before the next ring could begin. Holding the phone with her shoulder, she started walking back outside where her husband was waiting for her at the clothes line, looking at her curiously. She was nodding and, without a word, handed the phone to Goku.

Frowning, he said, "Hello?"

"_Hey, Goku. It's Trunks. I was wondering if you've seen my dad recently._"

"Vegeta?" The youth hummed in response. "Uh, no, haven't seen him in a couple months. Wait, ain't Bulla-"

"_Yeah. That's why I'm calling. I wouldn't have bothered you if it wasn't important._"

"Oh, yeah, I get you." Goku scratched his head, reaching out with his mind to sense for Vegeta. He felt it, weak and distant, and grinned brightly. "Hey, I can sense him! Do you want me to use my instant transmission and send him over?"

"_Please, Goku that would be awesome! You don't know how bad Bulla's been on my ass about this._"

He hung up and handed the phone back to Chichi, who was giving him her nastiest of looks. She had gone so far as to set down her clothes basket and put her hands firmly on her hips. Trying to avoid too much eye-contact, Goku put two fingers to his forehead and tried to concentrate, but Chichi rushed forward and slapped his hand away.

"Darnit, Goku," she scolded. "I can't believe you want to go help them after what happened last time. He would've killed you if you'd let him."

Goku sighed and put his hands on her shoulders. "Chi, I've explained this: Vegeta was upset. It really hurt him to lose Bulma-"

"That doesn't give him the right to cause trouble."

"-And he wasn't going to kill me, anyhow. He wanted me to kill _him_. Not the other way around." Chichi folded her arms and looked away. Goku laughed; he loved when she got huffy. "It'll only take a second. His kids need him." Sighing, his wife turned away from him, waving her hand in a dismissive manner, but it was really her giving him the okay. He vanished.

The world reappeared in front of him, and Goku couldn't help himself; he laughed aloud.

"What's so funny, Kakarot?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. Trunks is looking for you, though." Vegeta nodded.

"Yes, I know. He ran into me shortly after getting off the phone with you. Literally." Goku snorted and the elder's frown deepened. "Why did he feel the need to call you, anyway?"

"Said he couldn't find you."

"I've been here the entire time." He grinned, and an unease that had long settled in Goku's stomach vanished. It was a frightening expression, as it had always been on Vegeta, but it was obviously not a sign of maliciousness. "Where else would I be?"

Goku's calm faltered. "Where _have_ you been, Vegeta?"

He didn't respond immediately and instead looked away, down the hall, possibly where his daughter was. "Mourning."

Nodding, Goku wished him well and vanished.

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Trunks found him again standing outside the viewing window, arms crossed and looking thoughtful. He thought maybe his father looked less angry than before, but that might've just been his mind fooling him. Standing side-by-side, the men stared at the newborns, chubby and red-faced, swaddled and most of them asleep. Vegeta pointed to a dark-haired baby that writhed in a pink blanket, big eyes staring around her in awe. Trunks grinned.

"She's stronger than the others," Vegeta said, concentrating on the little bundle. "Not by much, but noticeably."

Trunks was nodding, though he doubted his father noticed. "The nurse had a hard time holding on to her."

"Her hair is very dark."

"Yeah." He glanced at his father out of the corner of his eye. "Bulla said the father was blond."

A brief grin was clouded over by rage. "And where is the young man?"

"He got really mad when Bulla told him about the pregnancy, said he didn't want anything to do with it."

Vegeta looked at him briefly; Trunks thought he looked sad or guilty and remembered his mother saying his father had said …nearly the same thing to her. Now, as an adult, he wondered if Vegeta regretted his decision. From the way he stared at the glass, no longer at the infant in front of him, Trunks figured he knew the answer.

His hoarse voice was quiet when he asked, "What's her name?"

"Sokka Bulma Briefs."

Vegeta bobbed his head. They were quiet for a while, watching little Sokka look at the other babies, investigate her blanket, and finally seem to sense their presence. She stared back, blinking her owlish eyes at them, until something made her giggle. Trunks felt his father's ki flicker beside him, not dangerously, but as if his control had wavered, and looked over. His mouth was pressed into a very tight line.

"She's got her eyes," he whispered. Trunks smiled. Yes, she did.

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**A/N:**** There you go. A bit of light for your darkness, Vegeta.**

**And yes. I (kind of) named her 'Sock.' The Japanese katakana word for 'socks' is 'sokkusa.' I just kinda played off of it. Sokka is not the real word for sock though. Just roll with it.**


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